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There is an ancient picture of the Christ child in the table. The child lies upon the straw, the mother is bending over him, the wondering shepherds are near, and in the background are the cattle. It is night, and there is only one feeble lantern in the place; but from the infant child a radiance streams which lights up all the rude scene.
So it is in sorrow darkened hearts when Christ truly dwells within. The light streaming from him who is the Light of the world, in whom is no darkness, illumines all the gloom of grief. Indeed, when Christ dwells in the heart, sorrow is a blessing, because it reveals beauties and joys which could not have been seen in the earthly light. It is one of the blessings of night, that without it we could never see the stars. It is one of the blessings of trial, that without it we could never see the precious comforts of God.
“Were there no night, we could not read the stars;
The heavens would turn into a blinding glare;
Freedom is best seen through prison bars,
And rough seas make the haven passing fair;
We cannot measure joys but by their loss;
When blessings fade away, we see them then;
Our richest clusters grow around the cross,
And in the night time angels sing to men.”